Failure
by BlackFox12
Summary: AU. Spoilers for season 6. Death tells Dean he won't rescue Sam's soul, and Dean has to deal with it. Contains spanking. Don't like? Don't read


**Failure**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from Supernatural, and I'm not making any money from this fic

**Summary:** AU. Spoilers for season 6. Death tells Dean he won't rescue Sam's soul, and Dean has to deal with it

**Warning(s):** Spanking; spoilers up till episode eleven of season 6; violence; some swearing

* * *

Dean stood outside the door of the panic room, feeling tired and aged – more so than before. Throughout all this, he'd held out hope that his brother would pull through. However, he was now having to deal with the bitter taste of failure.

Dean fingered his gun, giving serious thought to going inside and ending it all. Sam had already died; his soul was missing. All Dean would be doing was making it official.

But he couldn't. It didn't matter that – inside the room – was just an empty shell. It was still his brother's face, his body... Hell, it was Sam's memories; and his overly smart brain. All that was missing was the ability to feel; and maybe Dean could teach RoboSam to mimic emotions – enough so that it would be almost like his brother was back with him.

Almost.

But RoboSam had tried to kill Bobby, and Dean needed to see if it would happen again before he took the risk of letting Sam free.

Taking a deep breath, Dean opened the door and stepped into the room. It was with some relief that he saw Sam lying on the bed where he'd left him – but Sam didn't even blink as Dean walked over to him. He just stared at Dean with the calm, blank mask that Dean had become so used to seeing.

" Do you even realise what you've done?" Dean struggled not to raise his voice, but it was harder than he'd ever thought possible. "You nearly became a murderer, Sam!" He shook his head. "What am I saying? Of _course_ you know; and you don't care."

"Are you going to kill me?" Sam asked, his voice as calm as if he was asking a question about the weather.

"No – but not saying I'm not prepared to," Dean replied. "But you got your wish, Sam. Death isn't getting your soul back. You can just be an empty shell. Forever." He was struggling not to let his anger show, but it was hard.

"I'm sorry – but I didn't want to die," Sam said quietly. "I thought I had no choice."

"You're not sorry. You don't even know the meaning of the word."

Sam shrugged, and made no attempt to argue. "Are you planning to keep me chained forever?"

"Depends. You planning on trying to kill Bobby again? Or me?"

Sam closed his eyes briefly, and then opened them again to look at Dean. "I have no reason to try and kill anyone if you're going to stop trying to push my soul into me."

Dean shrugged. "But there's gonna be a few rules if I'm letting you free."

"Like... no trying to kill you or Bobby? And pretending that I can feel?" Sam sounded resigned more than anything else. "You want me to lie?"

"Yeah – that would make me feel so much better," Dean muttered.

"That's sarcasm... right?"

" You think?" Dean rolled his eyes. "But there's more than that. You follow my orders to the letter, understand? You don't do _anything_ without checking with me. I don't care what it is – you don't even _pee_ without my knowledge. If you don't agree – or don't check in with me – you're going straight back here. Am I making myself clear?"

Sam nodded. "But I didn't _want_ to kill Bobby. He's been nothing but good to me. I thought it was the only way to stop my soul coming back, though. I needed to commit a crime so great, that it would scar this body and make it uninhabitable. I couldn't kill my blood father; but the father didn't have to be related to me by blood."

Dean frowned. "If you really wanted to scar your vessel, maybe you should have gone after me to do that. I guarantee your soul wouldn't want to return if you'd killed me."

"You'd never have let your guard down," Sam replied.

Dean shrugged, conceding the point. "So are you going to be a good boy?"

"Or what?"

" Or I _will_ kill you," Dean promised.

Sam watched Dean for a few moments, and then looked away briefly. "I'll be good," he said in a much quieter voice.

Dean thought about going to ask Bobby what he thought, but decided against it. "You step out of line, and I swear you'll regret it." He leaned over to unlock the chains.

When he was free, Sam sat up, but didn't immediately get up. He rubbed at his wrists and ankles, not looking up at Dean. "Those chains were pretty tight."

"Couldn't take the risk of you wriggling free like when I tied you up before." Dean straightened up, and struggled not to lose hope; but it was hard. He hadn't had any other plans after asking Death to rescue Sam's soul, and now he was completely out of ideas. Looked like he was going to have to get used to this stranger. "Want a beer?" he asked, for want of something better to say.

Sam nodded without looking up. "Please."

Dean stepped over to the cooler and took a beer out, passing it to Sam. When he took it, Dean noticed that Sam's hand was trembling a little. It was virtually unnoticeable; to all but Dean, who knew his brother probably better than he even knew himself. "You okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine." Sam opened the beer, and drained the contents in one gulp. "What are we going to do now?"

"Guess we can't do much else other than see if there are any more cases." Dean walked over towards the door. "I need to speak to someone a moment. You stay here. I won't be long." Without waiting for a reply, he stepped outside the the panic room. Then, once out of earshot – he hoped – of Sam, he tilted his head back and cleared his throat. "Cass? You there?" He didn't expect a reply, and went on. "I'm not expecting you to come here. I just want to – you know – say thanks; and sorry for using you. Guess I can't blame you if you're planning on staying away."

"You didn't manage to get Sam's soul back?"

Dean blinked, and turned round to see Castiel standing there. "Uh, you know, I wasn't asking you to come talk to me."

"Since the only reason you've been calling me is because you want my help, I decided to save you the trouble of making up a story to get my here," Castiel stated. "I'm sorry, Dean, that Sam can't get his soul back. I understand that it must be difficult for you."

"Sam tried to kill Bobby. He wanted to make sure his body was uninhabitable." Dean paused. "Did you know that was possible?"

"Possible? Yes. But I never thought that Sam would find a way of stopping his soul from returning to his body. Nor did I expect Sam to be willing to do something like that."

"Yeah, well, he heard us talking about the whole soul being tortured thing. He might not have his soul; but there's nothing wrong with his brain. I had to chain him up, but..." Dean's voice trailed off, and he sighed. "I let him free; but if he puts even a foot wrong, I'm putting a bullet in him."

"You'd kill your own brother?" Castiel asked.

"He's not my brother anymore," Dean stated.

Castiel shook his head. "He doesn't have his soul – but that doesn't make him any less your brother. Sam's still alive; he's just missing a piece of himself. You can help him."

Dean shook his head. "Help him to what? Mimic human emotions? Already told him he's not to do _anything_ without checking with me first."

"You underestimate yourself, Dean. It was you who caused me to rebel against Heaven."

"Dean?" It was Sam's voice.

Dean turned to see Sam in the doorway, watching them. "What do you want?" he demanded, his tone almost snappish.

Sam's eyes went between Castiel and Dean, but he stayed where he was. "I was wondering if I could come out. I, er, think I owe Cass an apology. Right?" He was looking at Dean.

"I think an apology means more when you actually mean it," Dean muttered. "But sure, you can apologise to Cass."

"Apology accepted," the angel replied. "I understand that this is a difficult time for both of you. But I can't keep coming every time you call. I have a war to fight; and if I fail, the apocalypse will happen all over again."

"I know, Cass. I'm sorry," Dean said again.

Castiel just nodded. "All right." He glanced briefly at Sam, and then simply vanished.

Dean turned his attention back to Sam. "What did you do to Cass?" He held up his hand when Sam opened his mouth. "Never mind. I don't think I want to know. Get your butt out here."

Sam hesitantly walked over to Dean. He then looked up as Bobby came down the stairs, and bit his lip. "Bobby, I..."

"Save it. Next time you do something like that, boy, I'll whip your ass," Bobby promised. He then looked at Dean. "Got a case for you. Some bodies were found in the next town, all missing their hearts – all during the full moon last week. Thinking it might be werewolves."

"Or skinwalkers," Sam suggested.

"When I want your input, Sam, I'll ask for it." Dean looked at Bobby. "Can I see the articles?"

"I can help," Sam said.

"No – you can stand there and keep your mouth shut," Dean replied. "Do I need to chain you to the bed again? Or are you going to behave?"

"You don't need to chain me up," Sam replied quietly. "I'll go wait in the panic room till you're done." He turned, and walked into the room.

"You sure you're not being too hard on the boy?" Bobby asked softly as he and Dean headed up the stairs.

Dean frowned at the other man. "He tried to kill you, Bobby. I'm thinking I'm not being nearly as harsh as I could be. Or should be."

* * *

Sam slowly lowered his head to look at the gun Dean had aimed at him, and sighed a little. "You really don't have to do this, Dean. I'm not going to cause problems."

"Yeah, well, better safe than sorry." Dean had his free hand on the Impala's steering wheel.

"It's not safe if you don't have your eyes on the road."

"Okay, just stop trying to act like my brother." Dean raised his eyebrows when Sam looked away, out of the window. "You're seriously trying to act like you have feelings now?"

"Isn't that what you want?"

Dean wanted to say that he just wanted his brother back, but decided not to. Instead, he made an allowance, and slipped the gun away; though he wasn't prepared to disregard using it entirely.

"I'm not going to attack you, Dean..."

"Well, we'll see." Dean turned his attention back to the road, though kept a part of his gaze on Sam. It would be a lot harder to remember what his brother now was if Sam was going to start pretending to be able to feel...

* * *

"I don't understand," the woman said, looking between Sam and Dean. "This was an animal attack. Why is the FBI involved?"

"Well, ma'am, we're just trying to cover all the angels," Dean said with what he hoped was a charming smile. "Can we come in?" He was hyper-aware of Sam standing next to him, but didn't turn to look at him. He missed the days when he and his brother could play off each other; could come up with the same story without even needing to communicate. However, there was no point in wishing for the past.

"I guess..." The woman took a step backwards from the door to allow them access.

As Sam closed the door, Dean put a finger into his collar and started wiggling it around. When Sam looked at him, Dean shrugged and mouthed, 'Too tight.'

As Sam turned to the woman, Dean thought he saw him roll his eyes. He wanted to tell Sam to stop pretending, but the words wouldn't come out; and not just because they were in a stranger's house.

"Is there anyone who might have wanted your brother dead?" Sam asked when Dean didn't immediately speak.

"Rick had enemies, of course," the woman replied, walking through to the living room and sitting down on the couch. "He couldn't be a lawyer without making some. But he was always so careful. I don't see how someone could have hurt him like that. It _must_ have been a wild animal. I don't see how it could have been anything else."

Dean sat down on one of the armchairs. "We're just trying to cover every angle," he said, trying to sound sympathetic. It was easier to empathise with people than it had been. Perhaps it was as a result of spending a year as part of a different family.

But Dean didn't want to think about that. He'd managed to avoid thinking about Lisa and Ben up till this point.

Sam stayed standing in the doorway. "Can I use your washroom?" he asked.

The woman nodded. "It's just at the top of the stairs, first door on your right." She turned her attention back to Dean. "What else do you need to know?"

* * *

Dean looked at Sam once they were in the car. "So what did you find?"

"How do you know I was looking for anything?" Sam asked. "I might have just needed to go to the washroom." There was the slightest hint of a smile in his voice.

" Yeah, right. You're telling me _you_ couldn't wait?"

Sam shrugged. "Guess I can't deceive you, huh?" He reached into his jacket pocket, and took out a small book with strange symbols on the front, bound with a piece of string. "Wasn't sure what this was, but it was well-hidden; so I thought I'd grab it."

Dean grunted, unwilling to admit that Sam had done the right thing. He started coughing, and turned his head to one side.

"Dean?"

Dean started to say that he was fine, but he was taken over by another coughing fit. He kept his face turned away, and felt himself cough so violently, he was actually coughing up blood.

"Dean!"

Dean wanted to tell Sam he was doing a better job of showing emotions – he actually sounded concerned – but Dean felt the car beginning to swerve out of his control. He was only dimly aware of Sam reaching over, and wrenching control of the wheel.

Dean was far more concerned with the blood he was coughing up.

Sam parked the car on the side of the road, and immediately started looking under the seats and in the back. "Damn it!"

Dean guessed that Sam was probably looking for a hex bag, but his attention was mostly taken by the pain he was feeling. However, he had enough presence of mind to grab at Sam's arm. "Go back to the house," he managed to gasp out, his vision beginning to dim.

"There's a hex bag here," Sam replied. "I'm not leaving till I find and destroy it."

Dean continued to cough, feeling like his throat was tearing itself apart. He couldn't even stop enough to insist that Sam leave him.

And then, abruptly, the sensation faded.

Dean wiped a shaky hand across his mouth, and noticed that Sam was outside the car. As Dean watched, Sam dropped the smouldering remains of the book he'd taken from the house to the ground. It crumbled into ash.

Dean blinked several times, trying to reconcile his mind with what he knew. Had Sam seriously chosen to burn the book instead of getting any information from it? Looked like Dean was more useful to Sam than he'd thought.

"You okay?" Sam asked.

"Just peachy," Dean muttered. "I need to have a shower and burn these jeans," he added, glancing down at his trouser legs.

"I'll drive you back to the motel, and come back while you're getting rested and changed," Sam offered.

" We're on a case, Sam. You _really_ don't need to be trying to pretend that you have emotions right now." Dean rubbed at the blood on his jeans, and groaned when he just succeeded in smearing it even more. "Just get in the car, Sam."

Sam hesitated, but got back in the car. "Do you think she knows what that book does?"

"I have no idea." Dean put the car into gear, and turned it round to head back to the woman's house. "Guess we're gonna find out."

* * *

There was no answer when Dean tried the doorbell, so he just leaned in to pick the lock. He then opened the door, and stepped inside.

Almost immediately, an invisible force slammed Dean into the wall. He grunted, finding himself pinned there as the woman stepped into view. "Sam!"

Sam started forward, but gasped a little as he too was slammed into the wall.

The woman smiled as she stepped closer to them. "The Winchesters. I really am honoured." She leaned back a little, placing one hand on her hip. "I've seen many hunters before; but I never thought I'd catch the Winchesters in my net." She chuckled softly.

"What are you, a demon?" Dean demanded, struggling to break free – but found himself held fast.

The woman shook her head. "Care to guess again?"

"A witch?" Sam tried.

"Wrong again." The woman folded her arms across her chest, raising an eyebrow. "Third time lucky... perhaps. If you get it right, I'll let one of you live for a little while longer – not much, though."

Sam glanced at the woman, and – for a brief moment – looked somewhat distant. "You're an antichrist," he said flatly. "A child born from a human and a demon."

The woman clapped her hands. "Very clever," she stated. "Now, which one of you wants to die first?" No sooner had those words left her mouth, though, she simply vanished.

"Sam? Dean?" Castiel appeared in the hallway, and made a sharp gesture.

Immediately, Dean fell from the wall, landing heavily on his hands and knees. He was up almost immediately, though, and stumbled over to Castiel. "How did you know we were in danger?"

"Sam called me." Castiel's gaze went to the blood on Dean's jeans, and then back to his face. "Are you hurt? What happened?"

Dean shrugged. "Sam found a book. We were going to have a look, when I started coughing up blood and almost crashed the car."

"So I burned the book." When Castiel and Dean both turned to look at him, Sam shrugged. "I couldn't find a hex bag. So I figured it was the book causing it."

Castiel studied Sam for a few more moments, and then turned to Dean. "May I speak to you in private?"

Dean shrugged. "Sure, I guess." He looked at Sam. "Don't go anywhere. You hear me?"

Sam nodded.

Castiel put a hand on Dean's arm, and then they were both standing outside the house. "Dean, what happened when Sam burned the book?"

Dean frowned, thinking back. "Well, it turned into ash; and then I stopped coughing up blood..."

Castiel shook his head, and gave what was almost a frown. "That's not what I meant. Dean, did Sam just burn the book without looking through it to see what he could learn?"

"Yeah, I guess... I don't really remember." Dean suddenly realised what Castiel meant, and frowned. "Wait... Sam was acting to protect me? But he doesn't have his soul, right?"

"I can't tell without checking," Castiel replied. "But Sam was different; more like he was before jumping into the cage. He didn't try to manipulate me into coming to you... he called for help."

"When did he try to manipulate you?"

"It is not important." Castiel looked towards the house, and then back at Dean. "But I believe that Sam does have his soul back, and has been hiding it from you."

Dean didn't know how to react to that. If Castiel was right, then he was experiencing mixed emotions. On the one hand... Sam had his soul back; and therefore, Dean had his little brother back. On the other hand, Sam had been lying to him since leaving Bobby's; if not before. "Can you tell?" he asked. "I mean... Can you try to get a read on his soul?" Dean knew that it would be painful for Sam; but right now, he really didn't care. "Or... you're probably busy, right?"

"I can stay for long enough to see if Sam's soul has indeed been returned to him. However, you will have to deal with your brother on your own."

Dean nodded. "Fine by me." He headed over to open the door to the house. "You can come out now, Sam."

As soon as Sam came out, Castiel transported them all back to the motel room. Dean stumbled, and had to sit down on the bed. He thought he blacked out for a moment, because the next thing he heard was Sam screaming.

Castiel stepped back from Sam – leaving him pale and shaking – and turned to Dean. "He has his soul back."

"You could have just asked," Sam muttered – and then glanced at Dean. "Um... I _was_ going to tell you."

"What if I'd shot you?" Dean demanded, struggling not to raise his voice. "I was prepared to put a bullet in you!" So much for keeping his cool.

"Well, I, er, was kind of banking on you not doing that..."

"I will leave you along now," Castiel said when Dean would have spoken. "Please don't call me unless there is a real emergency. Dean, the Impala is in the parking lot."

"Cass... I'm sorry," Sam said.

The angel nodded, and then vanished.

Dean closed his eyes, and took several deep breaths to try and calm himself down. "I'm going to get myself cleaned up. When I come back, you'd _better_ have a good reason for lying to me."

"I'm your weakness, Dean," Sam said quietly. "I figured it was better for you not to know. That way, you wouldn't be constantly having to watch after me cause you'd be so pissed at me." He paused, and frowned. "You know, that sounded so much better in my head."

"Well, I'm pretty pissed at you now; only difference is you're gonna get your ass beat." When Sam flinched, staring at Dean, he relented a little. "Not saying that I'm not glad to have you back; but you've put me through hell since you came back."

"Dean... I'm sorry about the vampire thing..."

"I want to make it clear to you, Sam, that I'm not gonna be spanking you for what you did without your soul," Dean said. "But I will be blistering your ass for lying to me and keeping that secret."

Sam opened his mouth, but then closed it again. "I... just don't want you to hate me, Dean..."

"Sam..." Dean sat down on the bed next to his brother and sighed. "I don't hate you. Can't say it's been too easy since you came back, and it looks like my relationship with Lisa is screwed. But that's not exactly your fault, Sam – or at least while you've got your soul."

Sam nodded, but didn't appear to be too convinced. "Can we... Dean, I know you probably want to get cleaned up; but can we just get this punishment over with? Please?"

"I guess..." Dean lightly touched the blood stain on his leg, and found that it was dry. He then reached for Sam's wrists, pulling his brother over his lap.

Sam just lowered his head, and clenched his fists in the blankets. "I'm sorry, Dean."

"Well, I hope so. Cause if you're not now, you're gonna be soon." Dean lifted his hand, and brought it down in a hard smack.

Sam jerked, but apart from that, he showed no reaction. He winced when Dean continued to spank him, and began wriggling and squirming a little.

Dean raised his eyebrows, and landed a few sharper swats to Sam's thighs. "Settle down, bro." He thought about pulling Sam's pants down, but figured he was getting enough of a reaction without needing to do that. His hand was beginning to smart, though, as he heated Sam's bottom to what he thought was probably an uncomfortable level.

Dean could feel the heat radiating through Sam's jeans as he continued to spank. Finally, he heard Sam's breath catch on a sob – and then another.

Dean stopped, finally, resting his hand on Sam's back. "What are you not going to do in the future, Sammy?" he asked sternly.

It took Sam a few moments to reply. "L...lie to you," he whispered finally.

"Good." Dean patted Sam lightly on the back. "Up you get."

Sam pushed himself slowly up off Dean's lap, and – when Dean held out his arms – he all but hurled himself into his brother's arms.

Dean patted Sam's back, figuring that they both needed this; and at least this time, Sam was actually hugging him back.


End file.
